so - three weeks without yoga is nobody's friend. i finally went back tonight YAY ME my ankle hurts a bit but the rest of me is feeling much better. plus since it was such a small class she went around and adjusted us and stuff and opened my whole spine. mmm delicioso.
one of gideon's friends on facebook put a post on today that she was listening to fire and rain and thinking of him. that song was on the rotation that i listened to after his death but the FIRST time i listened and thought of him (and cried) i was 17. it was my first year of college. we hadn't spoken in nearly a year. i was on the newport cliffwalk completely blotto drunk - yep, it's just as dumb as it sounds - rocks straight drop into the ocean. and at 17 breaking up / being broken hearted is just about next to dead. that was the last time i really thought i would never see him again. there were other time i listened to the song over the years and kinda/sorta thought maybe we wouldn't speak again but i knew eventually . . . . . . so things come full circle i guess, though this isn't what i had in mind when i thought i would like to be 17 again.
yes, i'm processing and all, but my overall point is more this: seeing the connection between how i felt then and how i felt/feel about gideon really drives home the intensity of the teen years. over time you forget how crazy intense those years are. actually to that end - i am looking forward to checking out this http://www.getmortified.com/ you should check it out. i'm thinking about trying out there's no shortage of angsty teen poetry in my archives!! i'm too tired to explain it in much detail and still get to the point that i'm trying to make which is about french . . .
i hate the french language. abhor hearing it spoken. poor carl actually speaks it fairly well and most women would swoon over that but i have forbidden it in the house. and after years of trying to explain how i felt about it - i finally found a way to put it in words: it always sounds like the upper and lower sinuses have come together through the fascist demands of an extraordinarily tight anus to unleash phlegm as a means of communication.
that's what i have to say about that.
2 comments:
Hmm. What about German?
german's okay. sorta the language equivalent of dressing up in your father's clothes though. always sounds like someone trying to act/sound very very important. but then it's hard to know because most of the times i have heard german spoken it has been in movies and germans are usually the butt of the joke.
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